The Cat in the Hat

At the end of my Friday afternoon I sighed to my colleague across the hall, “on my death certificate have them list under cause of death: Cat In The Hat.  As we laughed, we wondered, how did it get to be March already?  We’ve had so many days off, five February snow days this year, I’ve had to turn away from things I usually do in February.  But as we begin to celebrate Reading Month, I wanted to recognize Dr. Seuss. 

The morning started off crazy.  We had a PTO fundraising event and my Young 5’s class was scheduled for 8:15.  We returned from the rock wall climb, basketball shoot and other events to eat cupcakes at 9:00 a.m.  I’m pretty sure there was no T in that PTO decision!  In fact I could testify to that.

Since the Instructional Aide who helps with my writing time, is out with pregnancy complications I opted to, dare I admit it here, skip writing time.  We finished calendar, and I shared a new magazine subscription I’d bought for the class.  Ranger Rick Jr. was a hit, or at least the pictures of Rhinos were.

When we returned from lunch I hurriedly passed out two parts of the cat, intending to finish later when the class returned from library.  As I thought out the process, and counted the pieces,  I opted to have the class begin our free play time while I pulled groups of 6 to work together. 

As we cut, glued and positioned I had a clear understanding of which children knew the position words, under, over and between!  I also had a clear understanding that I should have had a parent help!  As dismissal time got closer and closer I hurriedly got the last hat rim attached.  The final names were written and we rushed to dress for bus pickup. 

As I later stood in the hall and admired the not quite straight red strips and the crooked noses and oddly shaped heads I celebrated the beauty of children's art.  What’s that saying? If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger.

Cookies and Ice Cream

Today as I focused on doing assessments during my Young 5’s play time several learning games items turned into play items.  My students found uses for items that I didn’t dream.  As clean- up time came a box of plastic alphabet cookies sat empty, the plastic cookie shapes were missing.  I asked? “Who got out the ABC cookies?”  Maddie admitted she’d got them out, from behind where I was sitting.  How did that happen without me noticing? 

“Where did you play with them?” I asked

“In housekeeping.”

I looked at the assortment of items left to be put away, no sign of the game pieces.

“Look in the cupboards; we need to put them where they belong.”

Several eager children joined in the search.  As the process continued Legos, Magnatiles, the farm and the play dough were all put away.  The room was returning to order. I returned to ask.  “Did anyone find the cookies?”  Still missing.

By this time I was feeling frustrated.  I invest a lot of my personal money into learning games and I don’t want them to get lost.  I asked in a firm voice of the whole class, “does anyone know where the ABC cookies are?”  From the clatter of putting the big wooden blocks away I hear a small voice. “I think they might be in the vanilla ice cream.” 

A child went to the empty carton I’d washed and saved months ago.  I was planning on using it to create an ice cream store.  When I set up the store I know the menu will include cookies.

An Unexpected Phone Call

An early morning phone call for most  people would bring concern.  For me the call brought delight.  Today, we had our fourth day off in three weeks.  To make it even more relaxing, this weekend we have Friday and Monday off for our mid-winter break.  I can almost feel my blood pressure subsiding as I take the time to do things I’ve put off. 

I admit to regretting not having my students make their Valentine’s card holders earlier, but we’ll get it done.

 I had a delightful day of making soup stock, cleaning the fridge and the joy of listening to some of our son's sermons on line.  I even squeezed in a trip to work to set up a new system for my small reading groups.   I had the time to call the endodontist and pay a bill--before it was even sent!  I even had time to smile at the parents grumbling on Facebook about our school cancellation.  

I didn’t take time, or courage to comment on that!

Frustration!

Four years ago I was placed in a Kindergarten classroom.  It was a whole day, alternate day program and I had over 50 students between my two classes.  Last year I taught Young 5's to one group and Kindergarten to the other.  This year I'm teaching all day Young 5's to just one group of 23.
With double the time and half the students I should feel relaxed.  Nope!
I've tried to learn all I can about writing, after reading the Lucy Calkins Units of Study I wholeheartedly jumped into the workshop.  Each year I've read at least two more books about writing and have tried to learn all I can.  I'm blessed to have a good friend in first grade.  Betsy is a writing teacher extraordinaire and she's so willing to look at anything I need.  I'm not alone. 
This year all Young 5's, Kindergarten and First grade teachers are going to a literacy training program hosted by our intermediate school district.  We've assessed, assessed and assessed.  We've collected data and analyzed data.  And after all this I feel so inadequate.  The program is focused on K and 1st.  We don't really have a young 5s curriculum in our state and the training only addressed our Young 5's questions when we ask and it often feels like they don't know what to say to us.  Maybe that's the root of my problem.
I enjoy teaching writing.  I love helping my students to see they always have a story to tell.  I love seeing them use those new letters and sounds they have learned to make words!  Kids drawing makes me smile.  Why does writing time feel so frustrating? 
Am I pushing Kindergarten down to Young 5's? Am I expecting too much from myself?  Is it report card time and I'm stressed?  Is this the disequilibrium that comes with learning and applying new skills?

Line Leader

Line leader

In my kindergarten classroom I only have one job.  Line Leader!  My students get the glorious privilege of leading the line, holding the flag at pledge, starting the greeting at Morning Meeting and turning the lights on and off when we use the Smart Board. Oh yes, they also get to select the pointer that I will use all day. 

My children only get this glorious honor about 6 times a year.  It amazes me how often my Line Leader has a really rotten day.  Not because they don’t enjoy the prestige, but because they are amazingly naughty!  Today was a good case in point.  O was the leader, and I was nearly ready to put him in a police lineup!  Rude, uncooperative, and just plain defiant.  Why?  I guess I need to think about this a little more. 

New Year--New Rules

In a week full of  unusually sunny winter Michigan days our room began to look like a disco.  When the sun was pouring in the window the room sparkled. Many of my students were proudly wearing their new clothes they got for Christmas.  The girls were glittery and shiny with spangles and rhinestones.  One girl even had silver sequins on her boots!
 We'd been back from vacation for a couple of days when I noticed some inattentiveness and odd movements among my 5 year olds.  I observed and learned they were pulling the sequins and shiny stones off their new clothes to give to friends.    I was starting to see hurt feelings and knew the parents wouldn't be thrilled with their destruction of their new outfits. Phone calls were sure to follow!
At Morning Meeting the next day I was amused to hear myself declare, "if you find or are given a  shiny piece of someone's clothes you must give it to me."  I added, "I will put it in my pocket and throw it away."  Back in September when we'd created our rules I hadn't seen this coming, but the new rule shut down the trafficking in glitter. 
Parental phone calls were averted.

This is Not the Day I'd Planned

“Are you terribly busy today Lori?”, without caller id I would not have recognized my elderly mother-in -law’s voice.  I abandoned my computer, with the half written e-mail confirming my late morning meeting for lunch and thrift shop browsing,  I set down freshly brewed tall mug of tea and ignored my pjs and unshowered hair.  My few remaining days of break suddenly had a different schedule.

“No, what’s up?” From the sound of her voice I knew this couldn’t be good.

“Could you come over and make me some toast?” an unheard of request to the most stubbornly independent woman in the county. 

My mind quickly returned to the ten days she’d spent in the hospital in early December, where time and time again she’d relapsed with the stomach flu.

“Sure, what’s going on?” I wondered if I should call for help.

As she explained her long night of illness I quickly added a line to the e-mail, telling my friend I’d contact her if our plans could continue.  I ran to the bedroom and grabbed jeans and sneakers and the closest top, dressing for sick room, not lunch.

As I drove the 5 rural miles I prayed for skill and kindness as I dealt with an uncomfortable situation.  I have a weak stomach and I anticipated a mess when I arrived. 

When I arrived, Midge’s hands were shaking with weakness; she lay on the couch, with walker and cane close by.  I made her tea, and toasted some bakery bread I’d bought earlier in the week.  As I convinced her to eat half a banana and drink some water I wondered how I’d know if she needed to be hospitalized.

I started the washing machine, stripped the bed and gathered up anything that needed to be washed.  As the washing machine swished and rinsed I reflected, someday I will need help too.  When she finished her breakfast I settled in to chat and fetch anything she might need.

Over the next hours as she napped and began to get stronger I thought of the hard decisions that will need to be made in the future.  After a light lunch she encouraged me to go home and “fix your husband’s lunch.”  I struggled not to laugh, my husband has happily made his own lunch for the 17 years I’ve worked in education.  But years of making her farmer husband’s lunch still are clear in her mind. 

As she began to worry that I had work to do at home I agreed to leave for a few hours, and arranged to stop in the late afternoon to deliver a few groceries and check on her. 

After a late lunch and shopping with my friend, I returned to make a light dinner.  As I refilled her water and laid out a snack for the evening I asked if there was anything else I she needed.  Little did I expect the next request to be the most disgusting and dreaded of the day. 

“I think I caught another mouse, could you check and reset the trap?" 

I felt the blood run from my head.  I loathe mice.  That is one task I always leave to my husband!  If he’s gone on a business trip I throw trap and corpse away.  For a moment I thought about pretending the trap was empty.  I really hate mice!  I never do that task!    But now was not the time to explain this. I took a deep breath, smiled and asnwered,“Sure, where is it?”